Ritual Read Free Page A

know her, then, sir?’
    ‘Sort of,’ nodded the man. ‘In a way I did. Do you...?’
    ‘St. Peter’s Church, sir. Nice and quiet, I understand it was going to be. The funeral. Nice people, her folks. Well, her Mum, Mrs. Spark, well, she’s a bit, erm... well... you know, different... but you probably know all that. Perhaps I’m talking out of turn.’
    ‘Oh, no, you’re not. I’m only her brother,’ said the man, beaming.
    ‘Oh, blimey! Really?’
    ‘No, not really. Just my little joke. Thank you for your help. Would you accept this for your trouble?’
    He handed the station master a half-crown. The station master handed the half-crown back.
    ‘Sorry, sir, I can’t accept it for information concerning the dead. The dead can get a bit uppity about that kind of thing. Even hysterical, sometimes.’
    Without taking his glasses off, the man fiercely rubbed his eyes and moved towards the village.
    *
    Dian’s grave was surrounded by the Gang, who were studiously going through the motions of a funeral. Billy was conducting the service.
    ‘Well, I hope the ghosts don’t get you. We’ll bring you flowers on Sunday—if we can remember. And we’ll go on with our Nature Rambles with your sister—and we’ll do all the things—you know what we mean, don’t you, Dian?’ With his chubby chin pointing towards the church spire, he addressed the Gang. ‘Right, men, we’re all going to sing ‘Onward Christian Soldiers, Marching As to War’, in memory of our friend. One! Two! Three!’
    He conducted the children as they sang ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’. And the children meant everything they sang. After the hymn they threw various articles onto the grave which they’d collected during the morning. A petal-less rose, two toffee papers, three aniseed balls and a rainbow marble. Then they pretended to lower an imaginary coffin on top. Billy and Susan made various abortive attempts to sing ‘The Last Post’. Susan, a pretty green-eyed child, had a clear voice but sang all the wrong notes. Billy sang all the right notes but in the wrong order. Obviously Pastor White was well entrenched in the pub, otherwise he would have swooped on them like Moses with the Ten Commandments. The children completed the funeral by heaping fresh soil over the wild rose and the toffee papers. James and John, the twins, retrieved the aniseed balls and gobbled them down without bothering to wipe the graveyard off them. And Billy pocketed the rainbow marble, which of course was Gilly’s. She sensibly said nothing. There was no doubt at all the funeral was a complete success.
    With a swing of his arm, copied from various films concerning the United States Cavalry, Billy summoned his troops to follow him out of Dead Canyon. Then the Cavalry wheeled round at the churchyard gate. Each soldier picked up a pebble from an adjacent grave and hurled it in the direction of the church. The pebbles ricocheted from the buttresses. Billy’s stone lanced off a stained-glass Jesus.
    Without warning, Gilly ran towards the church. She lugged open the Saxon door and zig-zagged into the ice light. The door clanged behind her.
    The children did not wait for her return but left the churchyard. They began a game of hop-scotch down the centre of the street as the stranger, briefcase in hand, approached them. As soon as they saw him, their good humour edged into aggression. Billy winged a pebble at the stranger’s feet.
    ‘This is our street! Get off it!’
    The stranger ignored the pebble and moved toward the graveyard. Another stone twinked the lock of the gate as he was about to open it. The stranger turned.
    ‘Come here, boy.’
    ‘No!’
    ‘I said, come here! And I meant it!’
    Warily Billy approached, prepared to dodge the deserved clip on the ear, which did not come. The stranger looked down at the boy, then reached in his trouser pocket and handed him a sweet.
    ‘Beads for the Indians.’
    ‘You what, mister?’
    As he said this, Billy snatched